by: Eric Fulmer
I feel as if all I've ever said
Or all I've ever done.
Has been nothing but one more act
In the play through which I run.
For within me lies a gaping hole
That nothing else can fill.
For I have tried with everything
And it lies empty still.
And though I try my best to turn
Unto my God above
And look for Him to fill my heart
With his unfailing love;
Still I find myself returning
To that stinking place
Where I try to help myself
And escape from His embrace;
But he pulls me back, even closer yet
With His mercy undeserved
And forgives me for each time that I
Away from Him have swerved.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
By Whom it May Concern
By: Eric Fulmer
As I looked inside myself, a story began to emerge. It was not in itself a story, per say, but through this vision, like a parchment being unraveled, a story unfurled itself to me. A tale about a quest for freedom...
A young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, sat on his couch late one night bored from the technology and instruction of his day. He thought to himself, "I feel trapped in the day to day scheduling and rushing that is my life. Is there no freedom?!" His conscious self knew the schooling that kept him bound to his studies was imperative and that one day he would need to call his learning to use, but there lay in him a deeper more adventurous side that longed for the freedom and adventure that the wilderness offered.
Once again, however, his studious conscious self wrestled his dreams back to the recesses of his mind as he stood and walked grudgingly to his room. On his desk, his computer and its billions of connections to the outside world lay awaiting him, but tonight, he ignored it. His attention was instead drawn to the old notebook he had used for one of his classes and then thrown aside and forgotten. He picked it up and flipped aimlessly through its pages. As the many empty pages that lay toward the end of the notebook flipped by, his mind became flustered. His dreams of freedom sprang to the forefront of his mind as he withdrew from his desk a simple yet powerful tool. He knew that this wooden cylinder and the graphite bound at its heart he could build a world all his own, and so, he began to write:
"As I looked inside myself, a story began to emerge..."
As I looked inside myself, a story began to emerge. It was not in itself a story, per say, but through this vision, like a parchment being unraveled, a story unfurled itself to me. A tale about a quest for freedom...
A young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, sat on his couch late one night bored from the technology and instruction of his day. He thought to himself, "I feel trapped in the day to day scheduling and rushing that is my life. Is there no freedom?!" His conscious self knew the schooling that kept him bound to his studies was imperative and that one day he would need to call his learning to use, but there lay in him a deeper more adventurous side that longed for the freedom and adventure that the wilderness offered.
Once again, however, his studious conscious self wrestled his dreams back to the recesses of his mind as he stood and walked grudgingly to his room. On his desk, his computer and its billions of connections to the outside world lay awaiting him, but tonight, he ignored it. His attention was instead drawn to the old notebook he had used for one of his classes and then thrown aside and forgotten. He picked it up and flipped aimlessly through its pages. As the many empty pages that lay toward the end of the notebook flipped by, his mind became flustered. His dreams of freedom sprang to the forefront of his mind as he withdrew from his desk a simple yet powerful tool. He knew that this wooden cylinder and the graphite bound at its heart he could build a world all his own, and so, he began to write:
"As I looked inside myself, a story began to emerge..."
The first in a while
Concerning the Present
by: Eric Fulmer
More nights than days I've lived on this earth
Sometimes in darkness unending,
But through the veil of pitch colored skies,
A beam of light is rending.
It lights the path through eternal night
And illuminates our way.
So that as we follow the steps of our Lord
We can see them and obey.
by: Eric Fulmer
More nights than days I've lived on this earth
Sometimes in darkness unending,
But through the veil of pitch colored skies,
A beam of light is rending.
It lights the path through eternal night
And illuminates our way.
So that as we follow the steps of our Lord
We can see them and obey.
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